


Stray Cats

by mew_tsubaki



Series: Birds of a Feather AU [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birds of a Feather AU, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tora is a Good Boyfriend, mentions of Kuroken & Akanekai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/mew_tsubaki
Summary: Fukunaga, and trying to be more than just Yamamoto's pet cat. *An AU oneshot set in my Birds of a Feather AU, but may be read on its own; set after "Closing" in the BoaF collection; slash.





	Stray Cats

**Author's Note:**

> The Haikyuu! characters belong to Furudate Haruichi-sensei, not to me. Have some Torafuku in the Birds of a Feather AU. BUT! This fic stands on its own so you don't have to read the fics in the BoaF collection to enjoy this. But don't let me keep you if you just love Torafuku, Yamamoto, or Fukunaga! ;3 Read, review, and enjoy! *Note: Though you don't have to read the BoaF fics to enjoy this, things will be clearer if you do; this is set after the 5th story, "Closing," and partially after the Tsukkiyama oneshot "Constant" and the Saekiteru oneshot "Brown Gold Eyes."

Smells from the kitchen woke Fukunaga Shouhei up, making him blink sleep dust from his eyes as he pulled himself from his pillow. His mouth felt sticky, and he realized why when he looked at his pillow: he'd drooled in his sleep.

He grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and wiped at the gross spot. It was still damp, so he hadn't been drooling for long. Perhaps he'd started when his roommate had first turned on the stove this morning?

Whatever the reason, Fukunaga got up and padded out of his room in his bare feet, absentmindedly scratching his stomach as he found his roommate plating breakfast. Fukunaga paused and watched him move about, waiting until he was noticed.

"I can hear you staring," Yamamoto quipped as he turned to wipe the counter down. As he grabbed the orange juice from the fridge, he added, "Sit down and eat. I got up early to make this, but unfortunately I have to rush through eating now." He sighed and slipped into the other chair at the small, round card table they called a kitchen table.

Fukunaga wordlessly obeyed, and he got his first eyeful of the traditional Japanese breakfast Yamamoto had whipped up for them. No wonder he'd drooled in his sleep—there was rice, fried eggs, that wheat toast he liked with apricot marmalade, grilled fish…and about three, four others of Fukunaga's favorites. All that was missing was the dried squid, frankly. But when he took a bite and went to food heaven, he knew he'd be fine without the squid.

He watched Yamamoto shovel it in as politely as one could when inhaling a meal. Yamamoto glanced at him and did a double-take, his gaze heavy-lidded from the low angle. "Does something taste bad?" the other man asked.

Fukunaga shook his head.

"Can I get you something else?"

Fukunaga quietly snickered, causing the tips of Yamamoto's ears to turn pink.

"Yeah, yeah, so I already switched to clerk mode…shut up."

That only made Fukunaga smile.

Yamamoto finished his food and grabbed his dishes, putting them in the sink. "You can just stack things in here, and I'll take care of it when I get home."

Fukunaga rolled his eyes at Yamamoto's back. He _could_ do the dishes, and he wished Yamamoto would learn that.

"Ah, keys, keys," the shorter man muttered under his breath as he glanced around the kitchen and went to the living room.

Fukunaga got up, tripped on the hem of his plaid pajama pants, and trotted over to the television. He picked up Yamamoto's keys from beside the TV and held them out, jingling them.

Relief washed over Yamamoto as he took them and zipped them into one of his track jacket's pockets. "Ahh, you're a lifesaver, Fukunaga~" he babbled, drawing the dark-haired man into a bear hug.

The taller man relished in the warmth, and he clung to Yamamoto. Yamamoto's hugs were always this warm and soft, like being wrapped up in a favorite blanket. Fukunaga flattened one palm against Yamamoto's back, reaching up with the other to run his hand over the bushy, blond line of hair that ran down the middle of Yamamoto's head.

Yamamoto chuckled and leaned in to Fukunaga's touch.

So Fukunaga glanced at the ceiling, hoped Yamamoto would forgive him, and let his fingers trail at the end of Yamamoto's Mohican, lingering at the hollow of Yamamoto's neck, beneath the base of his skull. Fukunaga knew Yamamoto would react if his touch was light enough.

And react, Yamamoto did. His arms tightened around Fukunaga, and a moan rose in the back of his throat, but he didn't release it. Instead, he released Fukunaga, gave him a little glare, and held very still.

Fukunaga held his breath, fully awake, his heart pounding in his chest and in his ears.

…but, red though Yamamoto was, he exhaled and poked Fukunaga's left cheek. "I've gotta get going."

Fukunaga pouted at Yamamoto's back as the latter turned and went to the door to get his shoes on. When Yamamoto was ready to head out, Fukunaga worried the hem of his plaid pajama top in his hands and made sure the other man saw his pout this time.

Yamamoto twisted his lips around, not quite frowning, but his heart—as ever—was on his sleeve. He averted his eyes, but Fukunaga wouldn't budge, so he ducked his head, leaned towards the other male…and chickened out and kissed Fukunaga on the nose instead of on the lips. "I-I'll see you later!" he stuttered as he opened the door and nearly ran out.

When the door closed, Fukunaga sighed. "Later," he echoed with a shake of his head.

* * *

Monday mornings didn't allow for the full breakfast like the one Yamamoto had made yesterday. Monday mornings meant coffee and grabbing a snack at work. Fukunaga thought Yamamoto had it easy in that regard. Yamamoto worked Sundays, Mondays, and mornings at the convenience store halfway between their apartment and Fukunaga's workplace. And working at the convenience store meant he had more munchy options.

On the other hand, Nine Lives Net left out a basket of fruit, seaweed chips, flavored breads, and muffins for their employees. At least they were allowed to eat at their stations, Fukunaga mused as he pulled his chair out and plopped down in front of his computer.

To his left, Kozume picked up his head and nodded to Fukunaga. It was as good as a verbal "hello" from the shorter man.

Fukunaga waved briefly before turning his computer on, and he ate an apple he'd grabbed from the breakroom while it booted. Sometimes, he thought, it was a little mind-numbing, being online tech support for this tech start-up. But…

His eyes flicked to his friend. Kozume was typing furiously, his fingers running a race over the keys. But he was silent as ever.

That was the thing about Nine Lives Net. For Kozume, who preferred silence, and for Fukunaga, who was all but a mute, this was the perfect place for them. After university, Kozume had found this business through an internet search, and he'd come to Fukunaga about it, too, half because he knew Fukunaga had been looking for work, half because he wanted a familiar face working alongside him. And with computer science degrees and Kozume wearing down the interviewer to insist that they'd be the best online techs the fledgling company could find, they'd landed the job.

Fukunaga found it amusing that they'd both pulled it off. They'd always been mediocre students, but Kozume's affinity for videogames had rubbed off on Fukunaga, and they'd discovered computers were the one area in which they had talent—aside from volleyball, of course.

His computer trilled and he logged on, watching the desktop come to life. He opened his secure browser and saw three customer messages awaiting a response. One needed help with password recovery, while the other two claimed email issues. He read the summaries and answered all of them, but his mind wandered from his work.

April was almost over, but February…had been such a shock. A week after it had happened, word of Nekomata-sensei's passing made the rounds through the various circles of alumni. Everyone had gone to the funeral—Nekomata-sensei's kids and grandkids and two great-grandkids, his friends and colleagues, and of course all the athletes he'd mentored. It had felt a bit strange, having them all in one place since they hadn't gathered for years. Kuroo and Kozume. Yaku and Haiba. Naoi-san. Inuoka and Shibayama. Yamamoto and Fukunaga. Kai. Yamamoto's sister, Akane. Even Haiba's sister, Alisa, had come to give her brother support. Off to the side, Karasuno's old Coach Ukai, who now ran the sporting goods company, Ukai Corp., had conveyed his grief for his old friend. And they'd all felt the same. Nekomata-sensei was the type to seem as though he'd live forever…but, obviously, that was not fact but fiction.

Fukunaga was pulled from his depressing thoughts by a poke in his arm from Kozume.

"Shouhei," he started.

Fukunaga gave him a small smile to indicate he was fine.

Kozume nodded. A minute later, Kozume spoke up again. "How is the new place?"

Fukunaga shrugged.

Not satisfied, Kozume pointed to their cellphones. He typed a quick question out:

_-any issue w/kuroos & my old place?_

Fukunaga texted back:

_-Nope. It's the perfect size. Kinda._

_-kinda?_

Fukunaga debated the level of detail his friend might want.

_-is it too much upkeep for you & tora?_

_-No. It's_

His hand slipped and he hit "send" before he was done. He hurried to finish his sentence:

_-It's kind of weird, having all the other spaces be close and cozy, while we have separate bedrooms._

He expected another remark, but nothing came immediately, so he looked up from his phone.

Kozume was giving him an "Are you kidding me?" look. "Separate rooms?" he asked aloud.

Fukunaga nodded.

Kozume shook his head and groaned, muttering under his breath. It sounded something like "thought you were dating." He sighed and texted something else:

_-you didnt HAVE to use both rooms that way—couldve left one for guests, as an office_

_-What would we do with an office?_

Kozume held his head in his hands. "I give up," he grunted, and he turned back to his computer.

Fukunaga stared at where Kozume had just been, and then he put his phone away. He didn't know where his friend had been going with the office comment, but he got the feeling that Kozume at least had picked up on Fukunaga's frustrations.

The thing was, Fukunaga _was_ dating Yamamoto. He thought. It was hard to tell, really. Yamamoto had always had a thing for super pretty girls, swooning over Karasuno's volleyball club managers, Shinzen's manager, Ubugawa's manager… But he'd never dated one, not in high school, not when Fukunaga and the others went to university. Girls flirted with him, especially when he'd come on campus on his work break to eat with Fukunaga and Kozume. He was polite and kind, but, at that age, he'd stopped getting so flustered over girls. His eyes searched for Fukunaga's more often, and he made plans with only Fukunaga more often. When Yamamoto proposed they become roommates after Fukunaga graduated, Fukunaga had thought that was Yamamoto's ultimate goal.

Two months after moving in, Yamamoto asked him out. And Fukunaga had been so charmed that of course he'd said yes.

And, in four years, things with Yamamoto had been fun. He turned out to be a dorky romantic, but Akane had promised Fukunaga that she was working on whipping her brother into proper boyfriend shape. Yamamoto listened to some of her instructions, but most of his habits he developed instinctively. For instance, he knew never to wake Fukunaga up with breakfast in bed, he always walked on the side closest to the street when he was with Fukunaga, and he'd stopped asking for permission to hug the dark-haired tech after the third time Fukunaga had kissed him to shut him up.

Ha. And kissing? Fukunaga loved Yamamoto's bear hugs, but Yamamoto's kisses were amazing, and Fukunaga hadn't stopped marveling at how well Yamamoto's mouth molded with his. The sex was fantastic, too.

…when they had it.

Fukunaga pursed his lips and squinted at his screen as another customer chat popped up. He frowned at reading yet another email issue, but his frown deepened as he thought about Yamamoto.

Kozume and Kuroo had found a nicer place seven months ago, and they'd offered their old apartment to Yamamoto and Fukunaga since it was convenient to both their workplaces. But ever since the move and Yamamoto suggesting they each have their own room, their own space, they'd been intimate only a handful of times, and always out on the couch, which was not exactly conducive to having a comfortable time. On top of that, Yamamoto had begun to turn as flustered as he'd used to around girls…

Fukunaga paused. He handled yet _another_ email problem, shot an email to Narita in their servers just in case the email problems were system-wide, and then pushed back from his desk to catch his breath and give his eyes a break.

Yamamoto's old habits cropping up… He couldn't be seeing a girl on the side, could he?

Fukunaga admonished himself for thinking such a thing. Yamamoto was too pure-hearted a guy even to _think_ about cheating. Besides, even if Fukunaga were none-the-wise to that situation, _nothing_ got by Akane when it came to her big brother, and she'd raise hell if he did anything like that. She liked Fukunaga, after all.

Still, even if Yamamoto was faithful, he clearly had cooled things down between them, and it bothered Fukunaga. If things stayed this way, with Yamamoto looking after him, feeding him, keeping him company…then Fukunaga might as well give up and buy himself a bell for around his neck, because he was no better than a stray cat which Yamamoto had taken in. And, as Fukunaga tried to get back to work, he tried not to let the situational irony get to him.

* * *

"Welcome to The Roost. Oh, Fukunaga, Kenma." Yamamoto lit up upon seeing them. "It's great to have you stop by to eat here."

Fukunaga nodded and Kozume shrugged as the waiter led them to a booth near the door. Yamamoto passed them menus and left to get water since he knew Kozume didn't drink and Fukunaga preferred to drink at home.

The Roost was a bar tucked away on the city street…rather, it _had_ been tucked away. About a month and a half ago, the place had been renovated, and new life had been breathed into it. According to Yamamoto, who'd come to work there since the owner's brother, Tanaka, was an old friend and needed help with the influx of customers, the interior remained black and silver, but the upholstery and layout had been switched up. The exterior, including the neon orange and black light sign that read "The Roost" in both English and Japanese, were brand-new, as well. They'd known about the bar and had come by before, but now they were well on their way to memorizing the new décor and becoming regulars since Yamamoto had started working there.

Fukunaga scanned the faces of the clientele. Most were expectedly unfamiliar, but others he could match names to: Karasuno's Tsukishima and Yamaguchi in a booth in the back, of course Tanaka behind the bar counter, Nishinoya who popped out of the kitchen, and Kageyama and Hinata. The last two sat, actually, on the barstools beside Narita from work and a blond man whom Fukunaga didn't recognize.

Yamamoto returned with their water as Kozume followed Fukunaga's line of sight to Hinata. Upon seeing the redhead, Kozume pushed some bleached blond hair behind his ear and waited for Hinata to notice him. Hinata did and beamed at him, waving him over. Kozume looked back to Fukunaga.

Who was Fukunaga to get in the way of the oddest friendship anyone had seen in a decade? He shooed Kozume out of the booth, and Yamamoto chuckled at the sight.

"And _that's_ why I feel for Kuroo-san and Kageyama," the waiter quipped to Fukunaga. He faced him. "Should I pick some random thing for Kenma and the usual miso for you?"

Fukunaga shrugged but felt yesterday's worries melt a little when Yamamoto smiled at him. The tech held his hand out, as if to stop him.

"Hmm? Fukunaga?"

But the dark-haired man dropped his hand and shook his head.

Yamamoto's smile fell a little. "Well…let me know if you need anything else."

Fukunaga nodded, but he cupped his cheek in his palm and leaned on the table, watching Yamamoto walk away to work. He didn't _need_ anything, he mused. "Want" and "need" were two different things, and he wondered if Yamamoto understood that.

Kozume rejoined him by the time their food arrived. He looked positively radiant as he slid in across from Fukunaga—as if he'd recharged under direct sunlight. Then his phone chimed and he rolled his eyes as he checked his messages. "I don't think I could ever bring Kuroo here without him going crazy," he grumbled, but his smile still toyed with the ends of his lips. He looked at Fukunaga. "Shouhei."

The other man ate a spoonful of soup.

"Not that I thought you would, but… After yesterday, did you try talking to Tora?"

Fukunaga shook his head.

Kozume picked at what Yamamoto had ordered for him—a small pork cutlet—and sighed. "I…know everyone's different."

Fukunaga pursed his lips, curious.

"And I know Kuroo and I—we're used to being close to each other. That's why we downgraded to a tinier place, to have more shared space." He looked up at Fukunaga, a frown on his face. "But I know Tora, too. He and Akane come from a—"—he shuddered—"— _cuddly_ family. He likes closeness, too. So for you two to have separate rooms—" He halted, his brow furrowed. "Shouhei. _Shouhei_ , I'm—I didn't—" He grimaced, not accustomed to apologizing.

But why was he apologizing? Fukunaga had no clue…until something dripped into his miso. And then another something fell. He looked down and caught his reflection in the soup. He was crying. He was crying?

Kozume looked like a cat threatened with a bath as he hastily flagged Yamamoto down.

"What the—?! Kenma, why is he crying?!"

A hand with a tissue materialized in front of Fukunaga's face, and he took the offering. Ah, that olive skin tone—it was Yamamoto.

"Don't look at me," Kozume mumbled.

Yamamoto exasperatedly sighed. "If you didn't do or say something, then what happened?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" the waiter hissed lowly.

Kozume glared at him. "This is why I try to stay out of others' personal business…"

"'Personal'?"

Fukunaga felt Yamamoto's eyes on him, but he couldn't force himself to look at him. Through his peripheral vision, he saw Yamamoto gesturing. The next thing Fukunaga knew, Yamamoto tugged him out of the booth and they headed upstairs, out of The Roost. They walked quickly and quietly and didn't face each other until they got on the train home. Then Fukunaga peeked at him.

Yamamoto had his arms crossed in front of his chest. His black uniform vest and bowtie were undone, and he must've slipped his apron off when Fukunaga hadn't been paying attention. But the look on his face? He seemed pained, distraught. He caught Fukunaga looking and tried to half-smile, as if to make the tech not worry. But there was real worry in Yamamoto's brown eyes.

That worry made Fukunaga look away.

They got home, but it felt unusually quiet, and it was odd for them to be home before eight. Fukunaga often came home seven-ish, but The Roost's hours were Tuesday through Saturday, from six at night to two in the morning, so Yamamoto often returned around midnight.

Fukunaga unzipped his light, spring jacket and undid the top buttons of his polo shirt, making a beeline for his bedroom.

"Fukunaga, wait," Yamamoto called out to him. The sound of footsteps meant he was following the other man.

But Fukunaga shook his head, and now he could _feel_ the tears welling anew.

"Please, just—"

Another shake of his head. He was one step away from his door—

"Shouhei-san."

The tech stopped, but not because of what name Yamamoto had used. No, he stopped when Yamamoto's voice broke. Fukunaga peeked over his shoulder.

Yamamoto looked _really_ distraught now. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, and a crease had formed between his eyebrows. He clenched his jaw, too. He hadn't looked so miserable since that time when Fukunaga had been injured in a university volleyball match, the unfortunate victim of one of Bokuto's last spikes before turning pro.

Fukunaga, too, bit his lower lip.

"I'm pretty proud of myself…for being able to read you so well," Yamamoto started. "I know you don't like to speak much, and that's fine."

He meant it, too. After graduating from Nekoma, Yamamoto had stopped telling him to talk more. Fukunaga had liked to think that maybe Yamamoto had started, then, hogging Fukunaga's words all to himself.

"But that doesn't mean that deciphering you is easy. On Sunday," he forged ahead, his face reddening, "you were kind of demanding. Then last night you were the quietest you've ever been. And now—" He paused to calm down. "Why were you crying?"

Fukunaga frowned. He didn't have an answer because, frankly, he didn't know.

A minute of silence passed. Then Yamamoto exhaled a long, slow breath. "I guess…goodnight, then."

Finally. The tech didn't wait any longer before slipping in to his room, closing the door behind him and blocking Yamamoto's visage from his view.

* * *

His phone meowed shortly before midnight.

Fukunaga unfurled himself on top of his comforter as he reached for the device behind him. The phone meowed again—a sound to replace the vibration of a ping when the ringer was on—and he checked the screen.

Uh-oh. Akane had tried texting him six times.

He struggled to sit up as another ping hit his phone, but he silenced it mid-meow. He skimmed the messages, summarizing that she understood that her brother could be a "thick lug" at times and that she was worried about them. But her latest message scared him:

_-FUKUNAGA-KUN. If my bro calls me ONE MORE TIME during date night with Nobuyuki-san, I WILL COME OVER AND SORT THIS OUT MYSELF._

Again, _uh-oh_. Kai was still easygoing, last Fukunaga recalled of his senpai, but Akane on the warpath? He didn't want to face that. He'd only seen her when she was nice—he wasn't sure he wanted to know her when she was angry. So his thumbs flew over his keyboard:

_-Sorry, sorry. What did Taketora say?_

_-That he's afraid to lose you. WTF happened? :(_

He sighed. It was so much to type, but he really disliked talking to people on the phone, so he tried to be as concise as possible in catching Akane up.

Two minutes later, Akane replied:

_-Oh. Well, if he wanted a pet, he definitely would've gotten one, y'know._

Really? _That_ was what she'd taken from this?

But she added:

_-But do me a favor and don't let him go to bed miserable, please, Fuku-kun? His heart's in the right place—you can count on that._

He wondered what she meant by that and almost asked her…but he knew better than that. There was someone else to ask instead.

Fukunaga got up and trotted over to his door. He cracked it open and peeked out, but there was no sign of Yamamoto. He stepped out and looked to the kitchen first, Yamamoto's door second, and located the man with the Mohican hunched over on the couch, flipping aimlessly through the TV channels. Fukunaga went to him and was a tad put-off by all the candy bar wrappers he saw falling off the couch. He lost count at eight.

"Take…" He couldn't get the other half out of his mouth, but he supposed it was fine. Actually…he kind of liked it. Everyone called him "Tora." No one called him "Take."

Yamamoto looked up at him diagonally. His frown was chocolate-covered.

Fukunaga pouted and smeared the chocolate with his thumb, squatting in front of him, and then he touched Yamamoto's cheek. He tried to convey his apology by staring.

Yet all that got him was another red-faced Yamamoto. "Agh, Fukunaga…"

Oh. No more "Shouhei-san." That was disappointing.

"I'm sorry I'm a crap boyfriend."

Fukunaga furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"No, I _am_ ," Yamamoto insisted. "I thought I was doing an okay job, but I don't know why you were crying."

Fukunaga rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You were tired…?"

The tech did a "so-so" gesture with his free hand.

"Not really tired…stressed? Is that it?" That old spark returned to Yamamoto's eye at having succeeded at something. "Stressed why? Work? Kenma? My new job at the bar?"

Fukunaga shook his head again. He pointed to his lips and then his nose.

Yamamoto blinked. "…oh. I don't…kiss you enough?"

It was funny and embarrassing, hearing it spoken. Fukunaga's face felt warm as he nodded.

The blush returned to Yamamoto's face, too. "I can explain!" he blurted. He swiped the couch free of wrappers and hauled Fukunaga up onto the spot beside him, the latter's hands in his as he started, "It's just— _it's very real to me_."

Huh? Fukunaga cocked his head to the right.

"I just—" Yamamoto cleared his throat. "It was different at our old place, when we first moved in. I really thought I could keep my morphing feelings friendly. And then I asked you out. And you said okay."

Fukunaga really had no idea where he was going with this.

"So I… I gave it my all. I gave _you_ my all. But when Kuroo-san and Kenma offered us this place and we accepted, it hit me how very _real_ this relationship is, and I was overwhelmed."

A whimper escaped the dark-haired man.

"No! No, please don't do that." Yamamoto's eyes held such kindness as he ran a hand through Fukunaga's short hair. "When we first lived together, Fukunaga, it was two friends rooming together. But when we moved, I realized, 'I'm moving with my _boyfriend_.' And I…I kinda panicked. I mean, I don't really know what I'm doing. I do my best to make sure you have everything you need and—"

Fukunaga covered Yamamoto's mouth and pouted again.

"Is something wrong? Did I say something wrong?" Yamamoto mumbled as best he could around Fukunaga's fingers. "I just want to give you everything you need—"

Now Fukunaga shot him a look.

Realization dawned on the shorter man's face as his eyes widened. "Oh. 'Need.'"

Fukunaga nodded.

A nervous chuckle escaped Yamamoto as he gingerly wrapped his arms around the other man's waist. "Okay. So I'm actually an idiot."

Fukunaga shrugged, not disagreeing.

Yamamoto stared into his eyes as best he could. "I…was so wrapped up in my head that I forgot to ask after your wants, too."

Fukunaga pointed to the graveyard of candy wrappers.

"Wrapped up, candy wrappers…ha ha, very funny," Yamamoto growled good-humoredly as Fukunaga snickered. "But," he continued, "can you let me ease back into our previous level of intimacy?" His tone belied his timidity. "I _love_ you, Shouhei-san, and I don't want to mess this up."

Well, hell. Fukunaga nodded again and happily accepted the courageous peck which Yamamoto pressed to his lips, chocolate and all. He chuckled at the mess they were and teased Yamamoto, sneaking another quick smooch.

But Yamamoto's eyes darkened, and he went back for a third, and a fourth, and he vocalized his moan this time when Fukunaga fondled that hollow spot beneath Yamamoto's skull. "Never mind," Yamamoto breathed as he positioned Fukunaga properly on the couch. "I think I've eased back already."

**Author's Note:**

> ;D Ahhh, I've been looking forward to writing Torafuku since I first thought of adding Tora to the bar's staff a while ago… (Maybe around the time of the 2nd BoaF fic, even? Wow, it was long ago. O_O) I enjoyed writing this from Fukunaga's POV and kinda felt I had to, since I'm continuing with my headcanon of him having selective mutism (it first cropped up in an Ennofuku fic, "Suffer in Silence," in case anyone's curious). But I really like the thought of Yamamoto understanding him and just…everything here. They're so cute together. X3 Let's see, what else… I'd already planned on Fukunaga and Kenma working at Nine Lives Net a while back, but it hadn't occurred to me recently that that might seem at odds with their class rankings at Nekoma (Fuku's in class 2-2 and Kenma's in 2-3), but I think the explanation handled that well…? *idk* The Narita mentioned is deffo Narita Kazuhito, and the email stuff is more foreshadowing for "Opportunity" in Birds of a Feather, sooo… B) Also, it had come rather out of the blue, to have Nekomata pass away (first mentioned in the Tsukkiyama oneshot, "Constant"), but it kind of works for this AU… Nekomata will appear in his own short story, though, to take place before his death, because I really can't leave any single character alone. :') Also! For anime-only fans, Akane isn't an OC but Yamamoto's actual sister, and I got this weird idea in my head to put her with Kai when they're older (it's only about a 5-yr age gap), and now I'm smitten with Akanekai (someone pls come talk about them with me, *lol*). And that's that! Though the song "[It's a Shame](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VCoorXaIOg)" by Brother Su (and featuring Giriboy) is kind of the image song for this fic…ahh, good music. -w-
> 
> So thank you very much for reading, and please review! In the meantime, the next fic in the BoaF collection, "Opportunity," will be out in a while, as there are numerous side stories to go along with it. So I hope these fics can keep you satisfied; otherwise, there are plenty of other fics I've written to satisfy your reader hunger while you wait!
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :3


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